


Ineffable

by TheeQwerty



Category: Minecraft (Video Game), Video Blogging RPF
Genre: Alternate Universe - Dream Team SMP Setting (Video Blogging RPF), Anal Fingering, Begging, Bottom GeorgeNotFound (Video Blogging RPF), Consensual, Consensual Sex, King GeorgeNotFound (Video Blogging RPF), Knight Clay | Dream (Video Blogging RPF), M/M, Masturbation, My First AO3 Post, Nipple Licking, Nipple Play, Porn With Plot, Porn with Feelings, Semi-Public Sex, Smut, Top Clay | Dream (Video Blogging RPF)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-25
Updated: 2021-01-25
Packaged: 2021-03-17 16:01:48
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,393
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28977078
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheeQwerty/pseuds/TheeQwerty
Summary: After the burning of George’s vacacional home, Dream becomes enraged and George cannot understand why Dream is always willing to go to great lengths for him.  After a talk, Dream confesses he’d do anything for his King, George.George asks him exactly how much he’s willing to do and Dream is eager to show him.
Relationships: Clay | Dream/GeorgeNotFound (Video Blogging RPF)
Comments: 4
Kudos: 192





	Ineffable

**Author's Note:**

> This is my first AO3 fic and it was originally posted to Wattpad in my book MCYT Smuts by TheeQwerty. The second part of this fic is there, too! I’m debating on whether I should post it to AO3 as well....
> 
> I hope you enjoy this!

There are only a few things that a man like Dream could never hope to be. What could a man like Dream not be? He was strong, respectable, demanding, capable and- undoubtedly so - he was remarkably clever. A man as electric and strong like himself had his reputation to speak on his behalf. When he walked in, the whole world turn to look at him- or to turn around him like he was born to be the Sun and all the other entities revolved around him. Dream was, well, a dream. Feared by those opposing him and loved by those at his side... But those above him? There was only one. 

Only one man walks this Earth that is capable of reminding Dream of all the things he himself could never possibly identify as. There, waiting for Dream at the end of the hallway, sitting at his throne, rested George. As Dream dragged his heavy, weary body across the red carpet of the King's Throne Room, he was once again aware of what he wasn't- and could never hope to be- so long as he had the pride to call himself a Knight. When his eyes met with his King's eyes, who shone bright and beautiful under the thousand shades of reflecting stained glass art pieces, he felt his heart stop beating and his breath run short. While Dream was strong and built by a God's rough hands, George was serene, frail, precious, and ineffably beautiful. 

Dream looked at the way that the reflecting lights of the glass art touched and slid down George's frame and seemed to caress his face and lips in incandescent shades of pink and purple and he felt jealousy. He would not admit to anyone, not even himself, that he wished he was light so he, too, would be able to sit atop of George's lips without soiling him with his touch. It was simply breath taking to Dream how a man could fit so perfectly among the shining spectacle of colored lights and glistening golden leaves adorning a throne- yet still be the most delectable presence in the room. 

As one does in the presence of a king, Dream dropped down on one knee to the floor. The heavy touch of his armor against the carpet managed to make a loud thump that resonated and bounced all over the room, an ironic reminder that the armor was almost as heavy as the burdens in the heart of the man who dressed it. 

"Dream, " George's soft voice called to the heavy knight. He looks up. The knight's lips stay slightly parted, dumbfounded by the King's beautiful simplicity. Every time Dream met with George, specially at his castle, he felt like a brute- one who could never hope to be as pure as the King. "Get up, you know you don't have to kneel when it's just the two of us." George concluded with a chuckle. 

George allowed himself to study his knight. Dream's armor was beginning to show signs of decay- unlike his spirit and body. There was mud at his feet, sweat on his body, blood resting over his mask- perhaps it wasn't even his own. It was, to put it bluntly, a pitiful sight. George let a soft sigh slip between his lips and reach Dream's ears, who reacted by raising his body from the floor. "Jesus, you're a mess. What is wrong with you? Who's blood is that? Come- " George bombarded his friend with questions and, before he even gave him a proper chance to reply, he let his right hand move forth in an attempt to touch Dream's mask with his thumb. 

Dream felt unable to move, frozen by the dace that was feeling any sort of proximity to his superior. He allowed George- as he would allow him anything, to be quite frank- to touch his mask as his thumb grazed over the dark, dried blood over it. He had not realized how dirty he was until George retracted his hand and inspected his own thumb and restated- "You're a mess, Dream. " The knight's body shifted in place as his face became warmer underneath his mask, feeling nothing but embarrassment for presenting himself in such matter in front of his king after assuming it would not have matter much to George how Dream showed himself. He let go of a nervous chuckle and excused himself. "I'm sorry, I got all dirty while defending you honor against the people of L'Manberg." He, of course, meant for this remark to be nothing more than a sympathetic joke to attain any sort of reaction from George, but instead the later stared him down, as if thinking for a moment, and gave him different answer than Dream had originally wanted. 

See, Dream was hoping for a simple comment about the events regarding the crimes of robbery and arson committed on George's vacacional home- maybe even a joke along the lines of ‘oh yeah, my bad, Dream’ but he was met with a completely serious response from George's behalf. "You're an idiot, you're going to get hurt one of these days if you play hero every time something small like that happens." This comment both irked and hurt Dream. 

It is true, however. Dream did play hero too often- but not for his own sake, rather for George's sake. George was nowhere near as shaken up about the attacks on his property as Dream was. Matter of fact, it was Dream who all up and decided that this was a highly offensive crime that warranted the ignition of another international conflict. He didn't do this because he loved conflict- he just loved his king. Dream was troubled by George's words because it seemed as if he was unable to see how aggravated Dream always seemed to become when George's affairs were meddled with. Truth was, Dream would tend to a million conflicts, fight a thousand wars, and treat a hundreds wounds for George- but George never seemed to notice the reason why.

As if George has suddenly been granted the ability to read minds, he spoke again "Why do you enjoy putting yourself in all sorts of trouble? Don't you get tired of fighting?" Dream observed the way that George's eyes seemed to plead for his safety- like a caring and rational friend would- but it had the opposite effect than intended because now, even more so than before, Dream was convinced that George and his interests were to be protected at all costs. "George, you know that what they did was wrong. I made sure to let it be know that our Nation and it's leader- that being you- is not to be messed with." George, who was still getting used to the idea of being in such a high position of power, he could not help but to shift uncomfortably in his throne's place. He felt flustered, feeling like Dream was putting too much importance on him. 

"It's just a Vacation house, I rebuilt it in a matter of hours. Why do you care so much about- ". There was one thing that Dream was not ashamed to admit, however, and that was his unwavering loyalty to this man. " Because you're my king and I am your knight. I live to serve you, George." 

The king trembled. The way Dream looked into his eyes as he talked words of you and me, like some sort of spell, made his whole being want to crumble and then be put back together only to hear him say it again and again so long as it always ended with a gentle calling of his name, as only Dream could do. George suddenly felt so stupid for asking such a question- of course Dream belonged to him and he belonged to Dream. How dare he ask such a thing. Silly George. Still, for some reason, his heart would not stop pounding like he wanted to hear more of that spell. 

Dream studied his monarch's gentle face and the way his eyelashes seemed to flutter incredulously because of his words. George's body seemed so small to Dream, specially when it was leaned back against the golden throne that almost as if by the God's script belonged to George and George alone- at least in Dream's eyes. To Dream it seemed like that's where George belonged. For a second, he wondered if he looked like he belonged in his armor. He wondered if George was as pleased to have Dream be his knight as Dream was to call George his king. Dream unconsciously clutched his helmet, which rested between the right side of his body and his right arm, closer to himself. 

"To serve me?" George asked, but before Dream could articulate, he continued. "You already do a lot for me." This last part, George had spoken with a little more shakiness in his voice than he had intended- but Dream did not seem to notice or, if he did, he certainly did not mind because he immediately replied without skipping a beat. "I want to do more."

Of all the words of mice and men, the truest were the ones spoken then. "More..." George echoed, like a question- except it was not a question because there was not a doubt that Dream was telling the truth. Suddenly, George felt like every sentence every spoken seemed a lie compared to the honesty at which Dream had declared he wanted to do more for George. It ignited a strange feeling in his chest. 

George's lips went hot as did his cheeks, his knuckles, his nose, and his neck- all side effect of his increased heart beat. Something about Dream's honesty and the low tone in which he spoke had turned the rational side of George into a mushed mess inside. Dream took notice. "George. " There it was, the word that sealed the spell like a wishper. 

Nothing sounded more enticing that George's name on the lips of the most honest man alive. Those were George's thoughts, at least, because Dream would not call himself an honest man. Yes, true and honest were his words, but how honest can a man be when he does not dare admit his lust for another? Shame would swallow him whole before he did. The last thing Dream wanted was to soil George's perfect purity with his heavy, dirty, dishonest soul- and body.

"George, " Dream called again, like a purring. "Let me show you how much more I want to do for you." Suddenly, in the spur of the moment, Dream felt like he could be honest with himself in a small quantity and allowed himself to reach forward to George, caressing his cheek- brushing it with his thumb. This, on its own, would not have made George bat an eye before- but right this second, it was impossible to ignore it could not be a similar case due to the very distinct intentions lingering behind Dream's caresses and sweetly spoken words. 

King George's face was set aflame as he felt his face be gently touched and dissected by Dream's wondering eyes. He felt exposed and, although he was confused, he did not object. Instead, George let Dream continue, shutting his eyes and giving him an understanding sigh of relief. 

Dream felt his whole hand, and soon his arm, grow warm and tingly. He did not want to stop but at the same time he worried that he would dirty George with his calloused, strong hands. Pulling his hand away would be the hardest thing to do, but it had to be done. He began to retract his hand, reluctantly, when it was suddenly held in place by George's smaller one. The shorter man, who was now leaning forward in his throne, looked at him with a troubled expression. "How much more?" 

Dream's eyes furrowed in frustration. It seemed almost too cruel to him how the starts aligned for him to have the privilege to continue touching George and yet he felt guilty at the thought. How appropriate is it for a knight to want to touch his king? To reduce him to a moaning mess, to have him cry out his name and twist in pleasure, to absolutely defile and corrupt him until he was as dirty as the knight himself. Just the thought of that made Dream want to run away and hide somewhere to appease himself as he had so many times before. 

"Show me." George demanded, although it sounded more like a plea than a command. Dream had to swallow down his embarrassment and drown himself in the lie that it was most definitely the king's order to continue and he should not disobey. Only through this lie would he be able to be honest with himself- and act out his desired. He wanted to touch George and he wanted to not care about dirtying him. 

George's lips ignited in flames- or so he thought they did- when Dream launched himself forward and pushed his mask to the side of his face to melt their mouths together. Dream was so roughly pushed against George's lips than he thought they would become one- like the back of George's head and the red, luxury fabric finished of his throne as he was pressed against it. A gasp escaped George's mouth, followed by a gentle moan. 

The sweets sounds were bliss to Dream- but his pants began to feel tight, the inside of his Netherite armor felt warmer; he knew he had to stop himself now before he was unable to hold back. Dream took a step back, in horror, as if he has just committed a crime worthy of capital punishment. A bit exaggerated, isn't it? Well, in any case he'd be willing to die for George and by George's hand. 

"I-I'm sorry, I don't know why I did that. George, please let me-". And he was cut short. George, who was now clinging to him by the edges of his armor, pleaded with his eyes. "Don't stop there." George looked down from Dream's face, his own face, set aflame by his rushing blood, was tingling everywhere. Surely he wasn't about to go into cardiac arrest like old Schlatt had, right?

"Touch me more..." 

Touch me more, the words echoed loud and clear- thundering and rampant, actually, in every corner of Dream's mind despite the fact that they were no louder than a mouse's squeak. In fact, the more time that passed, Dream wasn't even sure he had heard that but rather read it off of George's lips. His heart was pounding so hard in his chest and his hands were so sweaty and hot, he didn't know what to say and what to do. George looked back up and awaited for Dream to do something more, anything. ‘God, please do something, Dream!’ George wanted to scream, but his mouth felt so dry without Dream's lips over his own, so he couldn't speak. Luckily enough, this unspoken exchange reached Dream, who would never deny his king anything. 

Dream walked a step closer to the throne and he bent down, face to face with the king. He dug his long fingers in between George's hair, holding his head closer to his own as he kissed him again. This time, their mouths were slightly ajar, which allowed for Dream to explore the inside of George's. Dream though that George was as delicious as he had imagined, if not even more so than he had hoped. Their kissing soon turned messy and heavy, accompanied by panting and a lot more touching. 

Dream had both of his hands wrapped around George's frail neck, like an unconnected hug that pulled them together- then his hands slid down, slowly, onto George's shirt. Their panting was so beautiful- in his head, Dream though it might've sounded like church bells. Soon, Dream began to kiss the corners of George's mouth, then his cheek, his eyelashes, and back down towards his jawline. Dream's fingers ran gently along George's neck and his shoulders, his thumbs outlining his collarbones as Dream kissed George's jawline down to his neck. 

George gasped then sighed when he felt Dream suck on his neck- leaving a red mark. "Dream- " Dream halted for a second, thinking that maybe this was the part where he woke up.   
Nothing.   
Nothing more than another gentle pant followed George's words, and so Dream expressed his relief by continuing like he had never wanted to do more of anything. 

Dream clumsily undid George's first two shirt buttons- not because he did not know what he was doing. No, he had gone over this scenario a million times in his head, he knew what to do. It's just, the blood was rushing too fast to every extremity in his body that he felt light headed. Once the two buttons were pushed away from each other, he look a step back and abandoned George's neck.

There, in front of him, was the real Gorge, panting and flinching with his chest heaving up and down as his shirt was slightly unbuttoned. He was looking up at Dream with red, trembling lips and watery eyes, his skin being adorned by a thousands shades of all the colors from the bouncing lights of the stained glass when the sun passed through them to touch his skin. He looked straight out of erotic painting- or a religious one, maybe. Dream quietly exhaled, like he was seeing stars.

Dream dropped back down to one knee, this time right at the feet of the king in his throne. He buried his face against George's chest and began biting down, leaving a trail of marks, slowly undoing more buttons of George's shirt until there was no fabric between the knight's mouth and the king's porcelain skin. By this point, the coldness of the room, mixed with the heat of Dream's breaths hitting his sensitive skin, had George's nipples hard and Dream could not ignore that. He trailed his kissing to George's right nipple and gave it a firm lick. George jolted as he felt Dream slightly bite down on it and then suck it. With his right hand, Dream used his thumb to push and rub George's untouched nipple. 

George let escape a moan and buckled his hips forward, hoping to get action there too. The nibbling and teasing on George's 'buttons' had him tweaking every time that pleasure was directed all over his body through his spine. Even the tip of his fingers felt tingly, like they wanted to be sucked on as well. Dream savored George's moaning and, slowly, he danced his hand- never breaking the contact between his king's skin and his fingertips- towards George's pants. He pressed against George's crotch and, although there was layers of fabric in between the two, George felt the melting heat emanating from Dream's manly palms. He shuddered.

"George..." Dream whispered into the king's ears, like an enchantment that turned his brain to mush. Although technically 'George' was a single word, it was well understood that by that, Dream was asking for permission to continue down with the growing business in George's trousers. The later nodded, desperate for friction. George buckled his hips forward into Dream's hand, murmuring something like "go ahead" or perhaps it was a "do it, please"- who knows, they weren't listening to each other's words but rather feeling with their bodies and communicating in heavy breaths and panting what they wanted, knowing fully well that they both wanted a lot. 

Dream unbuckled George's pants and unzipped them, giving himself enough space to reach into his trousers and start massaging George's heated manhood. Immediately upon contacting, George jolted in place, letting another moan run from his mouth and into Dream's, which was now again pressed above his. Each time that Dream would jerk George's shaft while rubbing his slit with his thumb, more moans would be savored by Dream as they vibrated from the older male's mouth. He felt so embarrassed at the thought that he might've been too loud and his lips far too shaky against Dream's but he could not manage to go quiet. The pleasure was simply too much. 

George was oozing pre-cum into Dream's hand and smothering his fingers with it every time he would involuntarily thrust his hips forward into Dream's grip. By this point, George's ass wasn't even pressed against the throne, rather it had been slightly lifted as he would be constantly arching and raising himself away from the upright position of the throne. Dream used this chance to tightly wrap his free hand around George's waist for better stability as he continued to jerk him off. 

This wasn't enough, George though- he wanted to be touched more, harder, deeper. He wanted to be completely set ablaze by Dream's hands- he just didn't know how to ask for it, so he didn't. Instead, George took Dream's hand, the one on his hips, and pushing himself closer onto Dream's body, allowed for his hand to wrap further into his back, right over his ass. George wasn't an idiot, he knew that, in case any of this ever actually happened, he knew who'd be topping who- but he didn't even care, he just really wanted to be touched more. 

Dream's face turned hot in embarrassment from the realization of what George was suggesting. His sweat began to feel like melted candle wax as it slid from his forehead or down his neck, still wearing that uncomfortable Neatherite armor of his. He excused himself and forgot about his condition- which was a sorry state of uncomfortableness as his erection pressed hard and bothered onto the inside of his armor- and turned back his attention into his handwork. 

Dream continued to do what honestly could only be described as mincing George. His other hand explored the hem of George's pants before sliding his hand into his trouser, touching George's bare lower back with his palm and fingertips. George gasped- although he didn't know why it had happened, as he was so expecting of this to happen already and bring him sweet, sweet release. His moaning encouraged Dream to gently squeeze George's ass before relaxing his grip and pressing slightly his digits against George's entrance. 

Dream made sure to press and tease gently, as he didn't want to cause George any pain, but George was already so relaxed in incandescent pleasure that even his body was welcoming of Dream. Dream slowly pushed his middle finger into George and, for a moment, he felt like both of his hands were touching fire. George's body was so hot, just as hot as his breathy moans felt against Dream's skin when George would hide his wincing face against his neck. 

Dream began to gently thrust his finger in and out of George whilst continuing pleasuring him at the front. ‘God must hate me’ he thought, as the room in his own trousers was non-existent. His erection was twitching every time George would moan and whimper but he knew he could not afford to let George see or touch him, scared he would ruin George's perfection with his filth. He introduced a second finger into his beloved king, turning the room into a sea of shameless moaning. 

George clutched so tightly onto Dream, burring his red as a beet face against Dream's shoulder. His body was rocking back and forth from the combined forces of being caressed at the front and viciously finger fucked from behind as Dream roughened up his hand movement and speeded up. "Dream-" he moaned in a shaky manner, "I'm- ah... I'm so close." Dream thought this as a perfect moment to introduce a third finger and increase his pace. At this point, George was going mad from pleasure and the pool at his feet, made from his own arousal, made the hot pit in his stomach turn and twist, feeling the start of an orgasm. 

As Dream continued to stretch and rub every corner of George's inside, George could not hold back anymore. He tipped his head back, holding onto dear life by Dream's armor and letting out a loud, sweet groan as he released his seed on the younger man's warm hand. Dream slowed down the motion of both of his hands without completely stopping, letting George savor his climax from beginning to end as both men would pant. 

Dream finally retracted both hands from George's private since he was- almost but not entirely- done tweaking and flinching from his ecstasy trance. George looked satisfied and happy with his release, eyes only watery due to the intensity of his pleasure high. Dream, on the other hand, had to get away quickly. He felt like if he did not touch himself right this second, he would implode and never be put back together. He had probably never wanted to touch himself more, actually. The imagery that George had just provided would be enough to get a hard on any time he thought back upon today. 

At first, neither of them knew what to say. Then Dream spoke "George, I have to go. " He thought about what excuse to give the smaller man. "This armor is killing me." A shitty excuse, true that, but it wasn't completely a lie; the armor was painful against his heat. George was, to say the least, slightly disappointed. This is where they stopped? He didn't want to seem greedy but, he wanted more of Dream, seeing as he got off but the other didn't. George was about to object when he noticed the desperation on Dream's face. He figured that, whatever it was that Dream wanted to get away to do, it was very important. He'll get a chance to touch Dream next time, right? Surely there will be a next time, he though. 

"Okay..." George complied, still not completely convinced about his better judgement of letting Dream get away. Dream, upright and uncomfortable, smiled awkwardly. He glanced down at his hand, now forever embedded with the memory of George's body- his seed dripping between his fingers. He allowed himself to quickly turn away and abandon the throne room, hiding his flushed face and leaving George to fix himself before anyone could see the state he was in, so that he in turn could go fix himself.


End file.
